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capslocked · 7 months

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words.

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers.

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth.

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this.

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail.

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-"

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering -

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

(There's got so much on her mind.

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

#hyeju smut #loona smut #loona hyeju smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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poppletonink · 2 years

Text

“Choosing yourself will always disappoint some people. The sooner we accept this and make peace with it, the better.”

- Florence Given (From Women Don't Owe You Pretty)

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golden-moony · 1 month

Text

king of my heart | pt. 2

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader

warnings: love triangle? kinda.

author's note: go get some popcorn cause we have some drama here🍿... and it's a long part, so enjoy!!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

------------------------------------------------------

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, isahernaez, frosenqvist, and 79,121 others!

yourusername Miami GP over and out ✅🏁 No words could ever explain just how grateful I am for all of you and for the opportunity that I get to cover this amazing sport with such incredible people by my side. Thank you for everything Miami, I hope to see you again soon! 🌴💖

user1 the power she holds 🙌

user2 she's really living my dream 🥹

lissiemackintosh so happy to be able to share this with you!! love u❤️

yourusername we really need to do this more often😘 love u too! user3 y/n and lissie hosting track tv together is my new roman empire fr user4 SLAY QUEENS!! user5 the queens are thriving user6 i wanna be friends with them so bad 😫

user7 omg girl you're STUNNING

user8 BEST F1 WAG

user9 facts facts facts user10 she's not even a wag lol it's so obvious lando just keeps this nobody around for when he's bored and horny user11 user10 this "nobody" has done SO much in terms of women representation in motorsport, she's hardworking and a lovely woman. meanwhile, you're just a sad little person who's jealous of her because she's successful and close to your crush, who doesn't even know who you are. so get a life and stop embarrassing yourself. user12 user11 SAY IT LOUDER 👏 user13 user11 PREACH!!!

user14 i don't know if i wanna be her or be with her😩

user15 this is such a mood tbh

landonorris so proud of you, boo😍

yourusername 🥰🧡 user16 YNLANDO NATION WE WON user17 we love a supporting boyfriend 🤩 user18 i want what they have, your honor user19 is this considered a soft launch or what? user20 y'all are delulu😂 it's so obvious they're just friends user21 user20 girl being delulu is the solulu 🙌

user22 so when are we gonna talk about felix liking the post?

user23 i'm lost sorry, who's felix? user24 user23 he's pato's teammate in indycar and one of his besties user25 if felix liked then WHERE'S PATO user26 user25 doing more important things than being focused on this girl.

lilymhe such a pretty girl 💗

alex_albon should i be jealous? yourusername you should indeed. can u fight? user24 the friendship i didn't know i needed 🥹 user25 MY FAV WAGS INTERACTING YAY

user26 f1 is so lucky to have you!!!

user27 LOOOL why would they be lucky to have her?😂😂😂 she's nothing special user28 user27 and yet she's still rising 💅 user29 user27 then why are you even on her post? lol obsessed much?

user30 my role model ❤️‍🩹

📞 incoming call

[y/n; normal] [pato; cursive]

"...Hello? Did you butt-dialed me or something?"

"Uhm, hi. It's not a butt-dial. I-I actually just wanted to talk to you. Hear your voice, y'know. I've been kinda missing you."

"Oh really? And here I was thinking that your cold behavior toward me over the past three weeks meant that you didn't want anything to do with me. Silly me, I guess."

"I-I'm... [sighs]. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. About the way I've been treating you. I'm sorry, y/n. I really am sorry. I know I've been a total jerk-"

"Yeah, you can put it that way."

"...I've been a total jerk and I regret it very much. You didn't deserve it at all. I just- I'm not trying to excuse my awful behavior but I just think I got- Uhm..."

"You got what?"

"Well... I saw Lando's instagram story when you went back to Monaco, as you've probably already figured it out. And I think- Well... I got jealous. And I know it probably sounds stupid now but at the time it felt like a punch in the face."

"Pato..."

"I know I didn't and still have absolutely no business to be jealous about you and Lando, cause you and I are not dating or anything and you don't owe me any kind of explanation about the type of relationship you have with him. But after the great time we spend together in Long Beach... I don't know, it just hurted seeing you with him. But that doesn't excuse anything and I just regret so much the way I've been treating you since then, it hasn't been fair to you at all."

"And it didn't cross your mind that we could have had this conversation way before now? I mean, you waited three weeks to finally talk to me like a decent human being, how-"

"I know and I'm so-"

"Let me finish."

"Sorry, go on."

"However, I do appreciate that you're finally acknowledging all of this and communicating with me like an actual adult. I know it's not always easy to do. And although I don't owe you any kind of explanation, I just want you to know that there's nothing going on between Lando and me."

"So you and him...?"

"We're friends and that's it. We care for each other but there's nothing going on."

"Oh... well, thanks for clarifying that for me."

"Yeah, yeah. You'll have to work harder for my forgiveness, anyway. I appreciate the call but it won't be that easy for you."

"Is that so?"

"You've heard me."

"In that case, what would you say if I invite you for a few days to come here to Punta Mita? Maybe that'll help me a little to earn your forgiveness."

"... I'm sorry, what!?"

"You've heard me."

"You're joking. You have to be joking."

"I'm not joking. You're still in Miami, right?"

"I am..."

"Great! My brother in law is in Miami too and he'll take the jet tomorrow morning. If you want to, you can join him and come here with him! We'd be thrilled to have you here too."

"Oh my God... Pato, I don't know what to say!"

"Say yes and you'd make this birthday boy the happiest man in the world. You'd even make my sister happy, I've been telling her a lot about you and now she's eager to meet you."

"I hope you've been telling her good things about me, then."

"Only the best. She's even on your side, y'know. Said I was being a giant cabrón and needed to make things right. She wasn't wrong tho."

"[giggles] Fine. I'll go, but I'm only doing this for your sister."

"I'll take that anyway! I'll let Brett know you'll join him and I'll send you the details, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Now go and pack your bags for tomorrow."

"Hey! Don't get bosy with me, mister!"

"[Laughs] Fine. Take care, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, birthday boy!"

patriciooward posted to his story!

[caption 1; 🦈] [caption 2; beautiful views]

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; para-para-paradise 🌞] [caption 2; in his sharkboy era] [caption 3; 🐶❤️]

paddockgossips

liked by magui_corceiro and 84,091 others!

paddockgossips Among the alleged "breakup" between y/n and Lando, the McLaren driver was photographed last night having fun in a Monaco club in the company of Max Fewtrell and other friends. Some sources have said that Lando seemed very cozy with a blonde woman at the party, whom he later left with. However, we cannot verify this information in any way, so it remains a rumor.

user1 I HAVE A CHANCE AGAIN (i'm delulu)

user2 so this confirms ynlando is over?? 😭

user3 girl i'm devastated 😭😭😭 user4 i'm still in denial user5 well they were never together to begin with user6 user5 THIS!! people act like they were a couple when they NEVER confirmed anything 😂

user7 "blonde woman at the party" "it remains a rumor" and magui goes and like the post LOL

user8 she's so desperate for attention🙄 user9 who's magui??? user10 user9 she's kika's friend and she was dating football player João Félix not so long ago (in fact, i thought they were still together lol) user11 user10 and don't forget she's a cheater. user12 user9 she's trouble

user13 yn >>>>>>>> magui

user14 user13 no need to compare them

user15 sorry but single lando it's so hot 🥵

user16 SO TRUE user17 FACTS he looks so good omfg

user18 in his heartbreaker era 😎

user19 in his reputation era 😎 user20 in his idgaf era 😎

user21 i'm a child of divorce fr

user22 i know y'all love y/n for some reason but i'm SO glad lando finally got away from her.

user23 SAME. and if magui makes him happy then great for him user24 stfu i'm mourning here

user25 y/n this magui that but max was, is and will forever be lando's true wag💅

user26 the one and only indeed

elbaoward posted to her story!

[caption1; off to dinner] [caption2; my love🤍] [caption 3; lovebirds!]

patriciooward

liked by landonorris, yourusername, brettkimbro, and 86,382 others!

patriciooward BDAY WKND DUMP 📸 thank y'all for all the love❤️‍🔥

user1 THE HARD LAUNCH IT'S HARD LAUNCHING

user2 OMG IT'S HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CAAAAALM

user3 he really said i'll give you what you want: thrist traps and y/n... and he's so real for that

user4 he really knows his audience user5 king behavior if u ask me user6 everybody say thank you Pato 🙏

user7 YNPATO NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING??

user8 I'M STILL SPEECHLESS user9 they're so perfect i wanna cry😭 user10 LOVE TO SEE🔥

user11 as a ynlando shipper i have to admit they're cute but ngl this still hurts 😩

user12 MOOD user13 ynlando will always be in our hearts 🥺 user14 ynlando >>>>>>>>>> ynpato user15 user13 girl grow up.

user16 THAT SHOULD BE ME

elbaoward where are my credits for the last pic? cuties🤍

user17 u literally gave us the cutest pic ever user18 elba thank you so much for your service🫡 user19 elba is ynpato's #1 fan and you can't tell me otherwise user20 elba is just like us fr user21 LOVE YOU ELBAAAAA 🩷

user22 MOM AND DAD

user23 can't believe how fast she moved on and got together with this dude lol lando really dodged a bullet with her

user24 how fast she moved on?? girl y/n and lando were never even together so stfu user25 ???? why are you even on pato's ig post? go away user26 user23 y/n is such an attention seeker and yet everyone loves her, i'll never understand it 🥱

user27 not to be that person but i would KILL to be that piñata😏

user28 MOOD

frosenqvist oh to be tanned, young and in love

patriciooward 😜 user29 IN LOVE??? FELIX BESTIE TELL US MORE user30 i don't know about y'all but this is all the confirmation i need about ynpato being real, bye user31 i think i can hear the wedding bells user32 user31 yesss and felix as pato's best man

user33 bestie don't be shy and drop more y/n pics 🫶

user34 i second the motion !!!

user35 NOT LANDO LIKING THE POST LOOOOL

user36 he is so unserious i love him user37 ICONIC BEHAVIOR TBH user38 yeah but i just know he's crying inside user39 user38 for what? lol lando knows he's so much better than this cheaper version of him. user40 user39 i'm so done with people like you who insult pato just because you cannot defend lando with good arguments.

yourusername magical weekend 💖

patriciooward with you there? always user41 STOP THEY'RE SO CUTE OMG user42 this is such an upgrade tbh user43 SO HAPPY FOR THEM 🥹 user44 what a bitch.

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; back to reality✈️] [caption 2; I'm a high performance athlete. Athletes sweat. Sweat, baby] [caption 3; cutest model🧡]

paddockgossips

liked by magui_corceiro and 53,237 other people!

paddockgossips NEW WAG ALERT? 🚨 Magui Corceiro, the Portuguese model and actress, attended the Monaco GP after being seen a few days ago having lunch with Lando. It has been rumored that they could be in a relationship, especially since Lando and y/n apparently went different ways, and Corceiro's presence in the paddock has not gone unnoticed by anyone. Still, neither Lando nor Magui have confirmed or denied these rumors.

user1 A TRIGGER WARNING WOULD BE NICE NEXT TIME

user2 um let's hope there isn't a next time user3 user2 let's pray girl, let's pray 🙏

user4 "neither lando nor magui have confirmed or denied these rumors" well that's bs cause she just liked the post

user5 istg she's trying so hard to get attention user6 lando was asked about magui and he said she was just a friend... and then she goes and does this lol what a clout chaser user7 and people used to say that y/n was after lando's fame and yet she NEVER did anything like this user8 she's such a pick me girl

user9 everything i know of this girl has been against my will istg

user10 SAME

user11 oh good luck lando

user12 oh be prepared for the y/n fans and little girls that'll come attack magui when she hasn't even done anything wrong

user13 literally they're just mad at magui cause she's dating their fav driver loool user14 they're only jealous cause magui is a gorgeous woman user15 user14 she's gorgeous but she's still a snake

user16 i'd ask why lando would be with someone like her, but then i remember he's an adult and if he wants someone like her by his side then that's up to him. let's not treat him like a baby please

user17 say👏 it👏 louder👏

user18 weeeeell if this is the kind of people lando likes to have around then i guess y/n really dodged a bullet with him

user19 FACTS user20 i mean at the end of the day he's just another privileged white boy, so🤷‍♀️ user21 i really don't get all the hate that she's getting, is she really that problematic? user22 user21 girl google it yourself but yeah, she is

user23 I MISS MY GIRL Y/N WHERE IS SHEEEEEEEE??

user24 what is she even doing there?

user25 must be cause lando wanted her to be there user26 why y'all never asked the same thing about y/n? y'all are such hypocrites istg user27 user26 cause y/n was actually doing her job????? user28 user26 oh you're stupid 😂😂

user29 magui in the paddock, pato not being able to finish Indy 500... it really is a shitty day huh

user30 DON'T EVEN REMIND ME WHAT HAPPENED WITH PATO OMFG user31 I'M STILL SO MAD ABOUT PATO user32 the only good part is that y/n and his family were there for him ❤️‍🩹

see y'all in part 3!

taglist: @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @evie-119 @evans-dejong @minkyungseokie @noneofyourfbusinessworld @bernelflo @eiaaasamantha @ijustgomessitupx @honethatty12 @daemyratwst @f1fan65

(if you'd like to be tagged in the next part, just let me know in the comments!🧡)

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26lettersandmanyjourneys · 2 years

Text

01.09.2022

First book of the month - a short one because I am pretty tired

#26lettersandmanyjourneys #books #reading update #pic #women don't owe you pretty #florence given

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deceitfuldevout · 4 months

Text

Country Club Films

Dark!Camstar!Rafe Cameron x Reader x Dark!Pimp!Barry

Word Count: +7,293

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Nsfw gifs, Misogynist/sexist remarks, Manhandling, Loss of virginity, Human trafficking, Dark web, Mentions of cheating/infidelity. Non consensual stepcest, Force drug usage, Rafe is a huge slut and Barry is a sick freak, Blackmail, Mind break, Manhandling.

Author's Note(s): This is going to be a one-shot. Don't ask for a part 2 if you're not going to like/comment/reblog. I'm trying to catchup with real life and it's kicking my ass. Give a bitch a break ffs.

Offline Rafe is known as the long-reigning Kook king. But online he's known as one of the biggest camstars on the East Coast. When Barry, his former pimp, offers him a one-last film offer, well he just couldn't refuse. After all, it was just this once, right? Rafe began his career as a prostitute at a young age. It started off as something he did for fun, but when his dad cut him off that’s when he began working for a streaming service. He needed that quick cashflow if he'd going to survive in the Outer Banks.

At first, it started off as a hobby. Rafe was into voyeurism, he found that out at a young age. To dominate someone while everyone else knew. In the beginning of Rafe's livestreaming career, he started off as a solo act. He loved messaging complete strangers online, he especially loved the look on these women's face when he pulls his cock out. How their expression would change, the sudden stuttering at the sight of it. He loves when their eyes would rake up and down his girth, knowing full well they were admiring the sight of it. He'd jerk himself off in front of the camera, rubbing at his thighs while taunting his viewers. Rafe would edge himself off for each tip.

Rafe knows he's well endowed. Him having a pretty face and nice body was the cherry on top. He made himself comfortable with this newfound stardom. Becoming a sex worker was the last thing on Rafe's mind. In a span of a few months, Rafe was one of the biggest online stars. The best part is, no one else knew who he was. He found a luxury apartment by the beachside to live in, that's where he did most of his work. He even invited some of his clients for a solo video.

It was more of a hobby for him, he would secretly record these women and keep it in his inventory. As long as he was getting paid and looked good doing so, he could care less what the other women looked like. To him it was strictly business. Old, young, single or taken, it didn't matter. For him it was a side hustle to get back on his feet. Hell, some of them were his dad's former clients. Rafe earned enough to get him a luxury apartment by the beach with the well-earned income and cushiony life.

If she had a pretty face, then he'd do it in missionary. If not? He'd fuck her doggy-style. He had fucked up one day after failing to pay Barry back. He may have underestimated the Pogue drug dealer when thinking he could get away with not paying him full price. When returning to his home he noticed a window had been broken, the T.V. had been running. When Barry breaks into Rafe's apartment in search of his money owed, the last thing he expects is a built-in porn set. There Rafe found him, currently watching his last performance on his brand new T.V.

It was as if the Pogue knew he was there, "Country Club...where's my credit for giving you that name," he stands up from the recliner. His expression wasn't mad, in fact, it was quite the opposite. It started off with Barry suggesting that he'd pay him back. Whether Rafe was willing to or not. He doesn't have a choice. Barry knew of his dirty little secret. He has enough evidence to ruin the Kook's polished image. So, for the past few months Barry has been his personal pimp. It became a regular routine.

Barry would schedule the meetings with clients to make it easier. A quick suck and fuck to cover rent. Rafe worked hard to get to where he was. This isn't a side hustle. It took skill to get to where he is. Rafe is one of the highest ranking members for a reason. The once proud Kook-king was owned by some Pogue. For the longest time Barry had almost total control over his business. Rafe had to work hard for the past few months in order to gain control again. Even after gaining access to his social media, it was Barry who called the shots.

Rafe would be notified by Barry of a latest client, they would meet up at the country club, where Rafe did most of his dirty work. That, and a motel nearby. For Rafe, the country club was a hunting ground. He'd often go for married older women with neglectful husbands. He would be the face of their business, but Barry would be the backup in case things got ugly (or if an unsuspecting husband were to walk in). Rafe's steaming channel became popular as well. His online alias? Country club. Like the place he'd pickup his clients.

It was the first time Rafe had been this confident in himself. He had finally earned enough to make a living and have liquid income pouring in. He would never have to worry about money again. But it wasn't enough for Barry. He wanted power, control and fear. So, what better way than to start blackmailing their clients? They had the wealthiest women in the palm of their hands. For them, paying off a blackmail would be cheaper than a divorce. Rafe knows he could get away with it too. He knew exactly what these prim and proper women wanted: A good and hard fucking. They wanted to be dominated, controlled and degraded to their heart's contempt.

It was surprising how many women of high society were into the downright nastiest things. Rafe can give them all that and more. Rafe would choke them, slap them around a few times, sometimes even reducing these women into tears. Yet they always came back soaking wet. Their husbands weren't enough. They needed a good fuck to escape the pressures of being a Kook. Call it an act of community service if you will. After getting into a brawl with a married woman's husband, Rafe decides that he doesn't want to take in clients anymore. Barry convinces him of a newer strategy: Live streaming for bids. Soon he was making an easy six figures. Rafe considers himself to be an expensive experience.

Now that he had a stable income with his streaming service, he can work from home. Usually for commissions or requests by his clients. So far Rafe had been enjoying his life after retirement. At that point Rafe didn't care what anyone would say. After spending some time in the industry, he had gained a new sense of confidence. Immunity, if you will. For his entire life, Rafe had gotten away with just about anything. He knows he's making almost as much as his father now. On a good day, even more. Barry was on his payroll and kept quiet about it.

There's only one thing Rafe missed about working in the industry: The rush. Rafe was going to miss the thrill of doing whatever he wants to a complete stranger. It made him rock hard just thinking about it. He could do whatever he wanted and they would beg for it. These women would beg for him to ruin them. The best part was, they would always come back for more. More, more, more. Rafe went as far as to sneak into the houses of married women while their husbands were away. He had earned a black eye and fractured rib after being caught. He thankful for not having to worry about that ever again.

Yet still, there's a part of him that yearns for that adrenaline, if only he could balance it with his regular life. Rafe wanted to spend time with his family more than anything. He knows that Ward had been giving him shit for missing his sister's recitals. He'll try to make up for that.

He'd just got off the phone with his sister, promising to show up at her next show. Barry had been messaging his phone nonstop. Rafe groans, what was it this time? Rafe decides to call him, "What's up?" a short and simple statement. Barry sounded a bit muffled on the other side, "I'm coming over, tomorrow, and I've got a deal you won't regret," he sounds confident. Rafe was curious by the humor in Barry's tone, "What is it?" now wondering what had made the dealer so excited.

Barry promised Rafe that he wouldn't bring up films as long as he was getting paid, but this? This was different, "We're about to become millionaires, Country Club," with that he hung up. Rafe groans, rubbing the back of his neck. He was enjoying his retirement while it lasted. Like his father, he would take any opportunity given to him. A chance at receiving a million dollars? Shit, maybe one last time wouldn't hurt. Rafe might just be looking forward to fucking whatever old crone paid for his time.

Rafe had emptied his schedule just to meet up with the Pogue. He set up studio, making a simple bed on the floor nice and pretty. He even added a few pillows for comfort. He then waits for Barry to arrive, to kill the time Rafe would snort a few rounds. He already indulged in his expensive collection of alcohol until his throat went hoarse. Rafe wanted to be as intoxicated as he could possibly be if he wanted to make it bearable.

A buzzing noise from his alert system indicated that Barry was already in the lobby. Rafe had let him pass through. It had taken the dealer a while to get upstairs. In the meantime, Rafe had popped a special pill to keep the party going. There's a loud slam on his door. Rafe opens it to find Barry hauling a large suitcase. He'd a little sweaty from the travel. It wasn't easy sneaking onto Kook territory. Especially if you were as notorious as him.

He watches as his partner hauls the luggage inside, cursing as he finally tosses it onto the living room floor. Rafe looks out to see if there are any onlookers before shutting the door closed. He locks it before walking towards it, "What is that?" to which his friend ignores. Barry hurries to where the camera had been set. As soon as he realizes it was ready, he goes for Rafe's laptop, logging in to prepare for a livestream. Barry is quick with his moves, wasting no time. He kicks off a few prop pillows until the mattress is bare. This confused Rafe as he was told he'd be using props for the video.

Barry orders Rafe to help with setting up the room, "Get this shit off,"

"What?"

"We can't let them know where we are, gotta make this place a little shitty," Barry informed Rafe that the client had a taboo fetish for non-consensual roleplay. He wants this place to resemble an abandoned building. So, both of the men put in the effort to make it look just like that. Rafe places an old worn-out mattress in the center of his room. Anything personal was discarded of.

By the time they were done the room it resembled a scene from a torture porn film. Rafe suddenly jolts to the sound of loud rustling coming from the luggage. Apparently, Barry wasn't specific to what kind of prop would be used either. Rafe turns to it, "What the fuck is in there...?" his voice is in all seriousness, "What the fuck is happening?" his attention is fully on the noise coming from the container.

Barry hurries to the case, his hands are quick to open it, "Our client wants us to use prop," that's when Barry reveals a woman who had been kept inside. He hauls her by the underarms and pulls her out the case. Rafe stares at the woman then back at Barry. He tries to read his face, nothing. In fact, Barry seemed like the only one that was perfectly calm about all this. He effortlessly lifts the woman out of the case, dragging her to the bare mattress. He ignores her muffled crying and returns to the camera. Barry wants the angle to be just right.

Rafe couldn't believe what was happening. He can't keep his eyes off the woman. Her hands and legs had been bound by duct tape. Her face covered with a satchel. She had been wearing a leotard--but it was the ballet shoes that had him in the chokehold. Rafe had a thing for cute, delicate things. A strange fascination of his were Ballerinas. As soon as he spotted those shoes his brain started to malfunction. It gave a sense of femininity that he wanted to protect. It reminded him of a special someone from home.

Barry informs Rafe that the clientele was a very important person on the Island. Their decision to start streaming, was Barry's idea. He made sure to turn on the bidding option to collect some extra cash. It was two birds with one stone. Barry shakes her by the shoulder a few times to give a good scare. He does it just show just how much stronger he was. Barry nods to his accomplice, ushering him to come over. Rafe is hesitant when approaching the two. Barry finally shoves her back down with a 'thud'. Rafe isn't bothered one bit by that.

Was it so wrong that Rafe had been emotionally numb to all of this? Maybe it was the dope or maybe a part of him really didn't care. Either way this would be the last time he would ever need to make another film again. The Kook sighs, "Let's make this quick, I have to get to my sister's recital," he begins to strip himself of all clothing.

"Sarah?" Barry questions,

"No, the other one,"

Barry smirks, "Almost forgot about that one,"

Rafe strips himself of all clothing before approaching the mattress. He circles around her, like a predator stalking its prey. He eyes her like a hawk, yet there isn't a single thought behind those blues. Barry is in charge of the camera work. He made sure hold it steady as Rafe got to work. This had been more than what Rafe was used to taking. He was more buzzed than usual, and he knew it. But did he really care? He felt good, and that's all that matters. Fuck, Barry was getting hard at the thought of it.

He's always had a thing for her, but the bitch thought she was too good for him. One thing he couldn't stand being was a stuck-up Kook bitch. Barry grits his teeth at the memory of her laughing at him. Now he was her only saving grace, “Her family, they're looking for her, and get this: Her daddy is a big-time figure on the Island, the dude is loaded,” he starts feeding Rafe bit by bit of a fantasy, leaving out the most important details.

Barry mentions one last thing: "The client wants you to break her in," he's dead serious too. For a moment Rafe pauses, "You serious?" His brows furrow, "She's never had dick?" He couldn't believe it. Rafe groans at the thought of it. She was a good girl who had gotten into some trouble, and now these bad men were going to ruin her. Rafe could practically feel how heavy his balls were. Fuck, he's never wanted pussy this bad before. There's something about an unused cunt that just gives a man an ego boost. If it's a show the client wants, it's a show he'll get.

Rafe pins her down with his body weight, he chokes her out, admiring the way she would try to fend him off. It was adorable, she really thought she had a chance. He taunts her pathetic attempts, "C'mon...try harder...let's see if you have a chance..." at this point he really was playing with his food, "See? You can't, because I'm stronger than you, I can do whatever the fuck I want," he rips the thin fabric off for a dramatic effect, "Your daddy's not here to save you," knowing that would only make her cry harder. Apparently, her stepfather was a very important businessman. One of the wealthiest in the entire Outer Banks. One who just so happened to have a very pretty stepdaughter. Rafe questions why the old man hasn't fucked her yet. He knows that if it were him, he already would've.

Rafe grinds his hips against her clothed sex. He groans, "How about I be your daddy? Huh?" he taunts, "Say it, say it slut," he grips around her neck again. He could barely hear the gurgled cry that came from underneath. Rafe didn't want to calm her down. It would be more entertaining for the audience if there was a performance. It was the thrill of the chase that excites him the most. Rafe wants her to be sobbing by the time he's done with her. He tears at her top, groping at the exposed flesh. He relishes in the feeling of soft skin. It'd been a while since he's hooked up with anyone. During the past few months, Rafe had only produced solo films. For once, he prefers a tight cunt over his hand.

Barry reassures him that there wouldn't be a thing to worry about, "Just go with the flow," he had already set up the starting prices. As the livestream started his fans began to swarm on. Rafe had been impressed by the number of viewers, had they really missed him that much? He held her against his bare chest. Rafe gropes at her bare chest while reading the comments. He rests his chin on your shoulder blade, taking his sweet time reading each comment. He plays along, “What do you say guys should we fuck her cunt or ass first?” A string of pings goes off from the laptop as it’s being broadcasted. Complete strangers were rooting for him to ruin her.

He chuckles after reading the comment, "C'mon guys vote in the poll ass or cunt first," as if she were a piece of meat. A sinister smile is plastered on his face. He held her by the neck, tilting his face towards her ear, "You're not a person, you hear me?" his fingers add more pressure, "From now on you're mine," his other hand caresses her mound. His digits tease at her clothed core, "This cunt? Mine," another 'ping' came from his laptop. He looks right at the camera, "How much can we get for her cunt? Do I hear $100?"

Rafe enjoyed playing with his prey. He loved to hear their whimpers for mercy. Barry reads a few requests, "The fans want you to slap her," of course, Rafe couldn't let his fans down. He shoves her down. He swats at her rear, admiring the way it ripples with each crack. His hand lands on it again and again, until she was writhing in pain. He then pulls at the remaining fabric. Now exposing her to millions of viewers. Rafe wasn't the least bit shy. He'd gotten comfortable with showing off his body to the world.

He motions for his partner to get closer with the camera. Barry approaches, unbuckling his belt to release his half-hard cock. He pumps it a few until it gets hard enough to stand. His cock now pressed against his abs, already leaking with precum. Rafe wanted full access to her, in order to do so he'll need a little help, "Hold her down, need some room," he held the camera so that Barry could cut some tape off. As soon as her hands were freed, she began smacking around. Both men laugh at the woman's feeble attempts. As if she could actually hurt them.

Rafe is having way too much fun with the struggle. Barry pins her hands under his knees, hard enough so that it would hurt. He hands over the knife to Rafe. He glides it along her thighs as a warning. In a few seconds her legs were freed, but only for a moment. Rafe got to work parting both of her legs. He uses his bodyweight to pin both of her legs down. His fingers already gliding up and down her slit. He presses his finger pads right on her core, rubbing it vigorously. Poor thing hadn't a clue who this stranger was playing with her cunt. He could be anyone, that's the part he loved the most.

Rafe loves getting his clients all worked up, sometimes to the point of tears. Until they're practically begging for him to ruin them. He knows his audience wouldn't say a thing if they thought it was roleplay. Most of his popular videos were darker fantasies. He's had his fair share of fucked up roleplays. His fans wouldn't so much as bat an eye if he were to smack her around. Rafe toys with the woman's exposed slit as Barry pointed the camera at them. Rafe spat at her mound, coating it with his saliva before teasing it again. Barry held her down while Rafe got to work on making her fall apart. He can't take his eyes off of such a pretty slit. Rafe's cock twitches at the sight of her slickened slit. He was transfixed by the sight of her tight cunt puckering at him. As if it were begging to be ruined.

Rafe doesn't waste any time diving him tongue first. He wraps his lips around the entrance, suckling at it like a starved man. Rafe starts with slow, strong licks. He made sure to look at the camera to capture a POV for the audience, before flattening his tongue against her mound. He presses the muscle along her slit, dragging it up and down. Rafe parts for a moment to spit a wad before lapping against her sex. He suckles along the sides, making sure to get her all hot and bothered. If there's something he's good at, it's eating pussy.

For dramatic effect, Rafe rubs his head from side to side, humming so that she could feel just how deep his tongue was inside her. Rafe retrieves for a moment, but only to tease the audience, "Bitches love when you bite it," Rafe jokes. He's had quite the experience as a giver. He knows just the right amount of pressure to bring a woman to climax. His teeth tease at her sensitive pearl. Her thighs quake from the pressure. Barry dares his friend to continue the torment, "Give it a pull, she can take it," and so he does. His thick fingers tug at her poor clit. A frantic cry is all he needed to hear before pressing the first digit inside. Shit, she was tight.

When he tries so curl his finger a howl of pain escapes. A swift kick lands right on his nose, landing with a loud 'crack' sound. Barry couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter. Rafe backs away, retreating to inspect the damage done. That's when Barry mentions something he should've done earlier, "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, this one is still intact," he forces her legs apart, parting her folds to reveal what Rafe hadn't bothered spotting. Before Rafe could pounce on her, Barry pulls her up against him. He tries balancing the camera but eventually lets it rest on a chair nearby. That way he could have more control over her.

He grips the back of her knees, exposing her full to a very pissed off Rafe. He knows that the Kook always held a grudge. Once his mind is set, there's no stopping him. Barry decides to twist the knife, “They want you to break her in,” he lets her go, raising his hands in the air so that Rafe is free to perform. He pulls her in by the ankles, dragging her across the mattress. He flips her over, pulling his belt from his waist before swatting it at her a few times. He ignores her crying, only using more force when she tries to run away. He doesn't stop, not until she's screaming at the top of her lungs. But it's not enough for Rafe's bruised ego. She embarrassed him in front of his fanbase. He needs to make sure that never happens again.

Rafe presses his fat tip along her folds. He collects whatever slick is there, still glaring at the masked woman as if she were the scum on earth, "God I can't wait to rape this bitch," he uses his entire body weight to thrust forward. A howl of agony is heard underneath the mask as it starts to soak with tears. Rafe's nails dig into her hips, hard enough to break skin. He pounds deep into her tight cunt. Rafe groans, "Shit...that's some good fucking pussy," as he fucks her into the mattress. Rafe had trouble making her stay still. He keeps having to pull her back in. Barry, being the friend that he is decides to help Rafe out. His shoe lands on her back, pinning her to the mattress below. He held it right against the back of her neck, mushing it down every time she squirms.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin has Barry hard as a rock “Shit country club…I can hear you in her guts,” if that didn’t give Rafe the biggest ego boost he needed to continue. Rafe huffs at Barry, “Oh yeah?” His voice sounding cockier from the statement. He wraps his strong arms around her waist before lifting her against his chest. Rafe fell back with a 'thud', revealing to the audience a full view of his cock burred balls-deep inside. Barry held the camera carefully, he hovers the device over the woman's slit, pointing it to where Rafe's cock sunk in. He captures Rafe's thick cock deep inside her weeping cunt. His balls slapping against her skin as he fucked her like a feral animal. He’s had a good fucking before but not like this. This time he has full free range to do whatever he wants.

Barry nears the two, he wants a closer look at his pretty little victim. He pulls and tugs at her tits until a muffled sob escapes. He then starts to smack them around, letting them bounce as Rafe abuses her cunt. Rafe moans at the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock with each slap. When Barry releases them, Rafe is quick to take over, his hands grip at them as hard as he can. He groans at the feeling of her cunt pumping him. Barry’s eyes rake over her naked body. He could see the indent of Rafe’s cock inside her cunt, palming at his own growing erection. He takes his sweet time examining their pretty little victim. Barry presses his hand against the indent of Rafe’s cock, “Oh fuck…can you feel that?” His palm presses harder until a squeal is heard from under the mask.

Barry chuckles, “Shit, Country Club is fucking your guts out,” a crude remark. Rafe couldn’t help but grin at that remark. He’s always been well endowed, but hearing that his cock’s imprint could be seen? It went straight to his head. Then an idea hits him. Barry spits a thick wad in his palm, his hand reaches in between her legs. He starts to massage her slit, his fingers tracing that sensitive button right above her stuffed cunt. As soon as her toes start to curl he stops, giving her a moment to prepare for an orgasm. Then he slaps her sensitive bundle of nerves as hard as he can. He watches as her mound bounces from the impact. A howl of agony pours out from under the satchel as she tries her best to close her legs.

Barry isn’t having it. He forces her legs open while Rafe fucks up and into her channel. Barry encourages him to keep going, “You gonna get her nice and pregnant huh Country Club?" he taunts, knowing damn well what he was doing. Rafe growls into her ear, letting him primal instincts take over, "'M’gonna fucking breed you, you hear me? This cunt is gonna give me a baby,” he juts his hips faster. Sweat collects on his forehead, “Gonna show you off to the whole town, let them know that it’s my baby in there…oh fuck!” His breathing became erratic as he began to pick up pace. Rafe growls as his cock sunk back into her warm channel. He squeezes her tits, "Can't wait for these to get full,"

Barry huffs, now jerking off to the sight of it, “You gonna make her a single mom, Country club?” Barry jerks his cock at the sight of it. He groans at the sight of her abused cunt filled with Rafe’s spunk. He lets out a faint sigh, “Damn country club, didn’t know you were this pent up,” to which Rafe nears her ear, "Imagine that, you getting knocked up by a complete stranger," he huffs, "Can you even hear me?" Rafe reaches for the cloth, but before he could remove it, Barry swats his hand away, "No, not until we're finished," that was part of the deal, "Her stepdad is an important Kook," never stating who he was. Rafe hums with delight. If only he could see the look on the stranger's face after finding out his stepdaughter had been absolutely ruined for any other man.

Rafe came, hard. He made sure to drain his balls deep inside her pussy. He sunk his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder blade, ignoring the wail from underneath the satchel. Rafe let's out a deep, gutteral moan, finally coming down from his high. He throws her limp figure onto the mattress so that he could catch his breath. He reads the comments section of his stream. Each fan would send a bid higher than the previous one.

This was the most bank he's made in a while. He reads the requests, making sure to take a mental note. Rafe returns to her, lying limp on the mattress. Her abused cunt leaking thick wads of spunk. Rafe couldn't help it, he just loved to shove his fingers in there. He'd play with her pussy, despite her whines. Rafe loves inspecting it, like some sort of toy he could use and abuse.

He flips her over, rubbing at her slit again. He bites his bottom lip, "C'mon....give me another one..." his fingers began to pick up speed. He waited to see the signs. When her thighs would quake before crumbling apart. He knew exactly what he was doing, "Ohh did I hit that sweet spot princess?" he taunts, "If you didn't like that, then you're gonna hate this..." Rafe wasn't done with her punishment, he wasn't even close to finishing. Rafe made sure to duct tape a vibrator to her inner thigh.

He parts her folds, pressing the round tip of the toy against her bundle of nerves. He then held her thighs together, using fresh tape to keep them closed. With the vibrator now pressed snugly against her pussy. He leaves the living room to grab a drink, asking if Barry wanted anything in the fridge. But the Pogue would rather jerk off to the pretty Kook trying to fend off an orgasm. Rafe returns with a cold beer in hand, he hands it over to the Pogue as the two men clink their drinks, saluting a 'cheers' to the fans watching.

They could hear her sobbing as her hips swayed for release. Both men mock the sounds that came from their victim. Barry and Rafe mimic her voice. Rafe was actually laughing at what he’d done. There was a smug look on his face as he re-watched part of the video. He's visibly smiling in it. A part of him wonders why Barry hasn’t joined in. A chance to break a virgin in? He doesn't know a single man that wouldn't take the chance. Barry lets him know, "The clientele wanted to see the best of the best, Country Club," he shrugs it off. Rafe doesn't think twice about it. He's too high to use his brain right now.

Rafe returns to where they left her. He reaches in between her legs, his thick fingers part her folds, letting his cum leak out. He whistles, "Shit....I really did a number on you," he could tell she was close and decides to help the poor thing out. What Barry says next came off as a challenge, "Bet you she's a squirter," only one thing can determine that. Rafe nods to the camera, "Get closer," he wants the audience to get a better look at how a professional does it. Rafe's fingers digits start stretching her drenched cunt again. Soon, they rapidly pumping in and out of her core. Then a gush of arousal pours out. Barry whistles at the sight of it, cheering on his partner.

Rafe hums, "Such a pretty pussy...." he moans, swiping his thumb at it. He collects the juices from her leaking hole, "I don't think she's ever came this hard," bringing his now slick digits to his mouth to taste, "Hmm...so fucking sweet," he purses his lips, "Little coppery," he could taste the tinge of blood on his tongue. It excites him, "I've gotta fill you up baby...gonna make sure you're nice and full," he squeezes at her breasts, pulling and tugging at the sensitive skin, “These are gonna fill in too," he latches his lips to a free breast, suckling at it like a starving man.

Rafe pops his mouth off for a moment. He swats at her tits, gripping them as hard as he can. A yelp escapes her lips before she's crying again. Rafe coos, "Shhh...shh...you 'needa calm down baby," he talks to her as if she were a child. Then an idea hits him, "We needa put some in her," which confuses Barry for a moment, "Her what?"

"Put some in her pussy, then she'll calm down," Rafe couldn't tell if it was because of the adrenaline or drugs. He doesn't care though, he’s in pure bliss right now. He wants to keep chasing that feeling. An idea hits him. Rafe retrieves an LSD tab from his pant pocket. He looks up at the camera. He sticks out his to tongue for the viewers to see, placing the drug on it. He lets it dissolve a bit before delving it deep inside her. His lips wrap around her slit as he suckles at the nerves. He knew those sick fucks wanted to see something with absolute filth in it. Why not go all out?

Rafe watches as she slowly starts to go slack. Her limbs flail for a moment before finally going limp. Barry couldn't help but laugh at her reaction. Rafe joins in, grinning from ear to ear at the now demobilized woman. Barry jokes, “She’s too doped up to know where the fuck she's at," causing Rafe to laugh ever harder. Both of them not realizing her feeble attempt to crawl away.

Rafe shakes Barry's shoulder, "Look at that..." he nears, crouching down at her, "So fucking cute..." for a moment he just watches her. Rafe tilts his head, "There's nowhere to run," he doesn't understand why she was still trying. He stands up, his leg pushes against her rib, shoving her to the floor. When she tries to pull herself back up again, he does the same thing only harder. Which brings him to the question: What would it take to really break her?

He flips her over, pressing his body against hers on the floor. She starts crying again when he sinks his cock in her. She's dizzy, scared and confused. Rafe is starting to get annoyed by the dramatics. He wraps both hands around her throat and gives a squeeze to shut her up. It does the exact opposite. She starts to cry even harder this time. Rafe grits his teeth, "Stop, stop crying," Rafe squeezes harder this time, intending to choke her out until she complies. Rafe shakes her a few times just to hear her cry harder. He could feel her walls pulsing from the lack of air. Rafe moans, thrusting his hips at the feeling of her squeezing his cock. He rolls his hips from the sensation. A deep, guttural moan escapes his throat. Fuck...she felt heavenly.

It had been four hours since then. Barry and Rafe would draw little tally marks on her skin every time they came. Soon the few lines turned into small groupings along her thighs and breasts. Barry had written a few words across her skin for the kick of it. Rafe had added some words himself just for the sake of it. ‘Suck me’ had been written on both breasts, ‘Cock sleeve’ was scribbled on her bare mound, ‘Cum dumpster’ had been scribbled on her rear. A few more tally marks could only be seen on her inner thighs. By the end of it the poor thing was brain dead. Her voice had gone hoarse from the hours of screaming.

Rafe felt sorry for missing his sister's recital. He'll have to make up for it. Right now he was just too fucked up to do anything. Rafe was drained, his balls are empty but hey, at least he's way richer. He shares a blunt with Barry. Both of them taking short puffs from the bud. Rafe was still cockwarming his new pet. Every now and then rolling his hips. It's not like she was there anymore.

They broke her, mind and body. As the prices began to rise, so did the poor woman's torment. Barry passes over the blunt. Rafe takes a few huffs. It was getting late and by then he was more than satisfied with the money they accumulated. Rafe closes his eyes, turning his head to his companion, "What do you think we should call it?" suggesting a name for the video. Barry pauses for a while. He turns to the Kook and grins, "How about....sibling bonding?"

Rafe pauses for a moment, turning to his accomplice, "What do you mean by that?" Barry only smiles back, "I think you know," "Know what?" a feeling of dread starts to consume him. There's a gut feeling that something was terribly wrong. All color drains from his face as Rafe releases the woman. He scrambles away from her. He's never sobered up so fast in his life. Rafe quickly changes into his clothes. He checks his phone to read the last few messages.

-Promise me you won't miss it Rafe! I'll message you when I get back home, ok? Love you ❤ 1:15pm -Where are you? I don't want to be late :( 2:49pm -You promised me you'd make it in time. 3:08pm -Never mind, your friend offered me a ride. 3:25pm

Rafe read the text messages over and over again. His hands can't stop shaking as he almost drops the phone. He doesn't look back, afraid of the unenviable truth, "I'm uh...I'm gonna head out, my sister she--she's waiting for me," just as Rafe was about to leave he hears Barry, "Sarah?" his face is expressionless, only his brows were raised. Yet his eyes were cold and calculated. Barry only ever gave that look right before fucking them over. The hell is he planning now?

"No..." Rafe answers. Barry purses his lips, "Is it...Wheezy?" as if he didn't know anything, "Oh...that's right, there's another one," as if he never spoke with her. Rafe turns to him now, obviously annoyed, "She's waiting for me at home," now demanding to leave. Barry raises a brow, "You think so?"

"I know so,"

"Sure?"

"Dude, why are you so interested in my sister?"

"Step-sister,"

"Listen man, I've gotta go, she's waiting for me," but before he could leave, Barry starts to laugh, "I think you know where she is, Country Club," and for a moment, Rafe pauses, he thinks about what Barry just said. Rafe faces Barry. He looks him dead in the eyes, "What the fuck are you saying?" he approaches the mattress, "What the fuck do you mean--" almost choking on his words, "...What do you mean by that...?" there's a strong feeling of despair that takes over his senses. Rafe felt like he was going to puke. Barry couldn’t help it, he knows he should’ve told him. But if Rafe knew he was fucking his own stepsister, well, he’d stop right there.

Rafe starts to hyperventilate. He fell to his knees, realizing the weight of what he had done. In the past few hours, the two men had put you through the most abusive experience of your life. Rafe used to be excited hearing the ‘ping’ that came from his comment section. To him, that meant money was being sent to directly into his account. Hearing them now made his stomach turn. Tears form in the corners of his eyes as he stares back at you, “That…that’s my stepsister--“

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Barry cradles her in his arms, as if they were a doting couple. Rafe couldn’t believe this was happening, “You’re sick…” he stumbles backwards. Barry glares at him, “You were balls deep inside her, but I’m the one who's sick?” he doesn’t give Rafe a second glance.

Money was tight and Barry needed to create the most depraved film yet. Something that was so hot yet so fucking wrong. Barry never mentioned who the buyer had been. The brother of Rafe's last affair. A married woman who had been blackmailed by the two men. After taking her own life, her brother wanted revenge. So, he waited, planned, and plotted while Rafe thrived while living in figure eight. He hired Barry as a part of his sick revenge scheme.

Barry of course complied. After all, it was mainly Rafe's fault for sneaking out to see said client. After losing one of their most valuable customers, Barry had to pin the blame on someone. Who knew it would produce one of the greatest film's he's ever made? It has an equal amount of shock and lust, combined into a four-hour long video. Barry lifts her up and into his arms. He cradles her against his chest, carefully removing the sack. For a moment, Rafe is in a state of shock. Only staring at them.

Barry gently cradles her face, he holds her up to Rafe, “C’mon Country Club, give her a lil kiss,”

Rafe felt sick to his stomach. He fell to his knees and Barry was capturing it all. His final end of the deal was being completed: Film Rafe Cameron having a break down in front of millions of viewers. His fans watched as Rafe started to scream at the top of his lungs. He held the sides of his temples. Refusing to believe what he had done. What he did to you.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Rafe wanted to to finish one last film then be done with it. Then he’ll quit and live a regular life. Rafe regrets ever missing your recital, he regrets not answering you sooner, he should've never started this thing in the first place. Never in his life had he abused someone to that extent. He felt a strong wave of anxiety taking over as he spilled his guts on the floor, puking out the alcohol from his system. Rafe began to panic, turning his head to face the screen as he stares back at the lens. Now the entire Outer Banks will know what happened.

#dark!rafe #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #reader #reader insert #dark!rafe cameron x you #dark!Rafe x reader #my works #my work #fem!reader #afab!reader #fab!reader

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